Dobry Czlowiek

He sits on the corner of the street
by the churches and pubs for people to meet
they pass him by trying not to exchange
looks as he asks for any spare change

He lost his hearing in world war 2
wears homemade clothes and 2 odd shoes
he spends his day begging for money
prostrations of thanks for every penny

His hair is long, unbrushed and matted
his attire poorly kept with clothes tattered
some people avoid but some take pity
and drop loose change into his kitty

As money is dropped, he leans forward to look
counts out the coins, writes them in a book
never misses a day, come wind or rain
Dobry Czlowiek, this is his name

A fairly old man, just passed 98
begging on the streets for pennies to take
each night he'll pack up and wander home
to his one room squat to sleep all alone

Up early to the street corner again
for many years now begging for change
many passers by would often wonder
what habits this man uses money to squander

Be it whiskey or cider or maybe drugs
a new hearing aid for those deaf old lugs
begging is stealing some are quick to say
they don't give a penny and just walk away

'Til one winter's morning pennies did drop
but no profound thanks from this old pop
he stares straight ahead all milky eyed
no breath on his lips, Dobry has died

Authorities come to the street to check
and remove the body of Dobry Czlowiek
they collect his wares, cup pen and book
a quick look inside to see what he took

Listed in his ledger, pennies collected each day
over 400,000, he gave it all away
a new roof for the church at St Swithuns
and money for food for local orphans

Donations for charities and good causes
begging everyday without any pauses
Dobry Czlowiek, don't you understand
translating his name 'A Good Man'